


Snow Globes

by Hella_Queer



Series: Operation KALEIDOSCOPE [7]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Christmas fic, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Gunslinger Girl!AU, I'm gonna miss them, Just Fluff All Around, a final send off for my babies, holiday fic, lamp halo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9043367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: Maybe it really was the best Christmas ever, but this one is a close second.  Thirteen years have passed since the Fakes had their first Christmas as a family. A lot of things have changed, but the important parts stayed the same.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kahnah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahnah/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Lamp Halo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4626051) by [Kahnah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahnah/pseuds/Kahnah). 



> A late happy holidays to Jenny! It's been a wild ride with these guys, and I think this is the best send off I could've given them. Might've slipped in some multiverse stuff cause it wouldn't be a Jenny thing if there wasn't something unexplained going on. I hope everyone enjoys!

*

  
*

  
*

 

  
Snow crunches under Ray’s boots as he lugs his bags to the cozy, wooden lodge hidden high in the Philadelphia mountains. It was noon; the sun high in the sky making the white powder glitter like diamonds. He can remember a time when the sight terrified him, filled him with disgust and uncertainty. Now he lets the cold dust melt on his uncovered fingers.

  
“It's kinda small, isn't it?”

  
Ray looks over his shoulder to find his driver a few steps back, taking in the postcard-like venue. Lindsay is fully covered; hat, scarf, parka, and mittens. She had spent her entire life down in Los Santos, where snow existed only of the cone variety. When he told her where they were headed, she spent an hour researching facts about climate and the optimal clothing suggested. Ray doesn't even feel the chill.

  
“Just wait until you see the inside.”

  
“Oh. Is it bigger on the inside?”

  
Ray snorts. “Nope.”

  
Walking into the main room is like stepping back in time. They stomp the snow off their shoes and leave them by the door. Socked feet sink into the plush, light brown carpet, and Ray wiggles his toes in delight. The big windows let in the light, warming the space even without the fire going. He doesn't need to go upstairs to know what's there; two bedrooms, barely big enough to house two grown men and three tiny kids.

  
The couch he spent all of that early morning on seems smaller now that he's cleared four feet tall, but it's still as plush and squishy as he remembers. Lindsay collapses on the spot, rolling onto her back and kicking her legs up like a happy puppy.

  
“How the hell are seven people meant to stay here for five days?” She looks at him upside down, grin lopsided and eyes glinting. The drive from New York to Philadelphia was good. Two hours of catching up with the girl he used to believe only his brother would understand. The crew had grown after they turned eighteen, and one by one they started making names for themselves, bippin’ and dodgin’ with the big dogs. But once a Fake, always a Fake, and they had the tattoos to prove it.

  
“We’ll make it work,” Ray says confidently. “But since we’re the first ones here…”

  
Lindsay is already racing to claim a bedroom before he can finish speaking

 

  
-*-

 

  
Every single radio station has been playing holiday music for the past four hours. _Santa Baby_ has oozed from the speakers no less than six times, and there is enough food crammed in every possible inch of the kitchen to feed a small army. Jack takes a much need gulp of beer and leans against the now clean island counter. His job is officially done. Everything else was someone else's problem.

  
When he agreed to fly out here from Australia, after a moderately successful deal had been made surrounding very special cocaine, Jack was a little reluctant to see more white stuff. He was even less enthused about being put on kitchen duty, but only on a base level. Even after all this time he was still the best cook, no matter what his boss/oldest friend/sometimes pretend lover liked to think. No one this side of Texas could beat his pork chops.

  
Last time he was here, dinner was frozen mini pizzas and powdered donuts. The drawbacks to last minute planning. This year they’re doing it up right, complete with cranberry sauce and proper eggnog. Proper, of course, meant a very big mug, and lots and lots of rum. The byproduct of which is howling from the main room in what was probably supposed to be singing.

  
“Ohhhhhh! Jingle bells! Geoffrey smells! Ryan laid an egg!”

  
“Why am I laying the egg?”

  
“Ryan! Because Ryan!”

  
Chirpy giggles overtake the music, and Jack walks out of the isolated kitchen and into chaos. The fire crackles in the fireplace, spreading heat to every inch of the haphazardly decorated room. They had put the tree up as soon as the last pair of boots hit the welcome mat. Their tree is bigger this year, a gent sized tree, and it's even more...unique than the one from last time. The tinsel is evenly distributed, lots of gold and blue and orange. Lights flash neon colors, and every single ornament is a different shade of brown. Jack grins brightly at the fake skull on top, branches poking through its eyes to keep it from falling off.

  
“Who wants gingerbread?” Jack calls, and all eyes fly to him. He sees red cheeks covered in glitter, abandoned popcorn string hung around necks and in hair and getting mashed into the once clean carpet. There's a mug in every hand, and a smile on every face.

  
The tree gets a little more beautiful.

 

  
-*-

 

  
Secret Santa was a stupid idea, so of course it had to be Gavin’s. They all got here on short notice, so buying individual gifts for everyone wasn't really on the schedule. And it's not like any of them truly needed anything they couldn't buy themselves. But it was _“the bloody thought that counts, Micool!”_ so here he was.

  
The little store he goes to is handing out hats at the entrance. He sees a trio of little kids giggling and patting each other on the head, and he tries to remember being that small. He can't. He can't remember a lot of things he thinks he used to, gets a headache any time he tries to dig deeper than a past week. But he remembers everything about their last trip to the lodge.

  
The drive had been very long. There was snow that Gavin liked, but Ray had not. Snowball fights and snow angels and The Bad Lake and hot cocoa. Geoff told them stories, and Gav had a nightmare. No one but Ryan liked their tree, and for that whole day stars circled the main room. The jacket Jack gave him didn't properly fit, and his chemistry set was a total babies game, and Puki the lion smelled just like his guardian. He couldn't remember his own bear that sat in Jack’s living room, or the month after his accident, and only some days before it. But he knew everything about the lodge.

  
So lost in thought, Michael doesn't see the person in front of him until he almost knocks them to the ground. He mumbles an apology, hears a cheerful one in return, and can just make out the name on the employee vest before the person continues on. Michael rubs his forehead, and wonders what song _“Polly”_ was humming. It sounded familiar. As soon as the thought pops into his brain, it's gone, and he's left staring at the name on the piece of paper in his hands.

  
He wondered if this place sells fireworks.

 

  
-*-

 

  
Ryan almost dies on Christmas Eve. Everyone besides him and Geoff are upstairs, fighting over bed space. Or in Jack’s case, relishing in the full bed he gets to himself until Ryan joins him. Their boss has rotated to the couch tonight.

  
A better way to phrase it would be: Ryan is almost murdered on Christmas Eve. Dying is ambiguous, but the meat cleaver in Geoff’s hand is a weapon with intent. So is the whiskey bottle in his other hand, but it was still half full, and a drunk kingpin could only hit a moving target fifty percent of the time on a good day.

  
“Just hear me out, would you?”

  
“We are _not_ staying here until New Years. Out of the question.” They had been here for four days. Four was a manageable number. All the gents got a chance to sleep in a bed, there was no excess food to throw away, no mountain of dirty clothes to remember not to leave behind. They should be leaving tomorrow afternoon. They _would_ be leaving tomorrow afternoon.

  
Ryan edges around the island, out of chopping range. “When's the last time you've seen Ray this happy, huh?”

  
Stubborn silence is his only response.

  
“Gavin hasn't complained about a single past mission that Burnie sent him on. Lindsay laughs like she hasn't done so in years–”

  
“Ryan–”

  
“Michael _remembers_ things.” He lets that hang for a minute. “I heard him and telling Lindsay about the first time they met. When they were eight. After the accident..”

  
Geoff knows. After the accident, Michael’s long term memory had gotten worse and worse. The longest he had been able to recall information was three months. And it hadn't stopped there. Pretty soon he was retelling the entire first year the crew had spent together; the awkwardness and the charity ball and the fighting and the cuddling and the weird way they just sort of fell together.

  
His guardian had been over the moon about it all. Jack couldn't stop smiling every time Michael interrupted Ray or Gavin—who told their own sides to things—with a random piece of information no one else seemed to recall. Geoff had seen the hope in his eyes, the desperate longing for the version of his son that had been taken away.

  
“Who knows when we’ll all be together like this after we leave this place.” Geoff wants to shake him, demand where the real Ryan Haywood is, but he feels it to. The inevitable separation that'll pull them apart once all this has ended. It hurts to think about.

  
“No one opens a goddamn present until December thirty-first. Eleven o'clock! If you fuckers are running up the bill to rent this place, you're doing it on my terms.”

  
Ryan just laughs.

 

  
-*-

 

  
The first time Lindsay was referred to as ‘sister’, Ray was pouting. Not only was she older than him, she was also taller, which officially made him the baby of the crew. Now he can look over her head without standing on his tiptoes. But just barely.

  
The next time was when she almost died. An unexpected trip to Japan had gotten everyone just a little bit excited, and at the time, a blindfolded street race against their supplier had seemed like a good idea. Lindsay drove, Gavin screamed in her ear via comm, and in the end they got a discount on the product. Almost crashing and exploding in a gas station was totally worth the double hive five and the slightly breathless “Wicked driftin, Sis!”

  
Michael’s tried it out a few times, but it always sounds forced. The two of them were closer than your average brother/sister duo, past the point of friendship, leaving best friends in the rearview mirror. It was good, whatever they had, and names were only as powerful as you let them be, anyway.

  
“Hurry up, Tuggey! Ice skating was your idea, remember?”

  
She does, and it was. One of the greatest ideas her young mind has ever come up with. The next town over is a big tourist trap, complete with a Vegas-like strip lined with trinket shops, and an indoor skating rink smack in the middle of a huge, glittery mall. None of them know how to ice skate, but that doesn't matter. The goal isn't to be good, but to be the least bad.

  
It goes about as well as one might expect.

  
By the time Jack arrives to pick them up, Ray is bleeding, Gavin’s got a broken nose, Lindsay’s ankle is twisted, and Michael is covered in bruises after fighting with a shady mall Santa. They've also been banned from the mall, which is fine, because their big pretzels are stale and the slushies are subpar at best. Jack tries his best to sound scolding, but only manages a fond exasperation.

  
“Couldn't you guys stay out of trouble for a few hours? It's the holidays, after all.” No one answers. Jack glances back when they stop at a red light, and his heart grows four sizes within seconds.

  
Ray is curled into the smallest ball possible, Michael has drool running down his chin, and Gavin is sprawled across all three of their laps, arms under his head like a kitten.

  
In the center of it all is Lindsay.

 

  
-*-

 

  
Snow falls down. It's a simple fact, like photosynthesis or biology. Flowers need the sun to grow, a deep cut will produce blood, gravity pulls everything down. It shouldn't be a hard concept to grasp, especially after spending the past three years in Europe, where the warm equivalent of snow falls down all the time, but for some reason it is.

  
For a very long while, snow fell up for Gavin. When Michael got hurt, after his first really bad motorbike crash, the day after he agreed to work for Burnie Burns. His body got stiff and still, his brain went offline, and snow fell upwards. It was mesmerizing in a dizzying way, the laws of physics being ripped apart behind his very eyelids. He didn't like it, but he lived with it, ignored it until he could act as a person once more.

  
He thinks about it during dinner one night, covered by Ryan’s old jacket, sitting on the plush window seat, nose pressed to the glass. His belly is full and his mind is at ease, the sounds of his family behind him. After Christmas passed the snow started piling up, almost to their knees in some places! He likes jumping into those places, and tossing Ray in when he isn't paying attention.

  
A hot mug is guided into his hands, and a warm body follows, pressed against his back. Gavin cuddles up to his guardian and flicks his tongue against the giant marshmallow floating in his cocoa. Ryan watches the snow with him, relaxed expression reflected in the clear glass. Gavin can't remember a time when the man looked this peaceful. Perhaps this was the first.

  
“Do you remember when I died?” Gavin is, of course, referring to their master take down of the Project. Playing dead was easy. Feeling dead was a lot harder. He had been bred to do just that, give his life in place of his guardian. But after learning about love and loyalty and friendship and happiness, he found himself clinging to the idea of living. It wasn't a perfect life, but it was his, and he hadn't wanted to give it up

  
“I try to forget it, honestly,” Ryan says with a wry quirk of his lips. “It wasn't a favorite moment of mine.”

  
No, probably not. It wasn't anyone's favorite moment. They had been pawns, part of someone else's bigger game. They knew half the information and possessed a quarter of the skills needed to pull off anything remotely impressive. They were children hiding beneath the covers with the vain hope that everything would be alright come morning.

  
“I'm glad we won.” Gavin smiles and wiggles his toes when he feels a kiss placed on top of his head.

  
“Me too, kiddo.”

  
There is no more Project to be afraid of. No more scary hospitals or strings or bad parents. No more monsters in the closet. Fear was ever present on the job, along with anxiety and doubt, but not right now, never in this place. For right now they remained as untouchable as the clouds, as secure as the stars, past their prime but shining brightly all the same.

  
Snow falls down, but they don't. Not anymore.

 

  
-*-

 

  
“Why didn't I do this sooner?” If possible, Geoff sinks even deeper into the couch than he already is. He hasn't gotten up in what some would say three hours, but what was probably closer to seventeen years. His eyes are glazed over, his beard filled with crumbs. He has become one with the sofa.

  
“Cause you're dumb?” Gavin offers from his place next to him, slumped over in a similar fashion. Michael’s feet are in his lap, toes digging into his brother’s thigh every so often.

  
“It's because he's old.” Ray, under a mountain of blankets on the floor, doesn't bother to turn around to deliver his sass. Lindsay is somewhere in here with him. He thinks he sees a hand, or maybe a nose? It's hard to know for sure using only peripheral vision.

  
“I'm proud of you, Geoff. Best idea you've ever had.” Jack absently pets his gunslinger, his free hand curled around a beer. There's a twelve pack by his feet—eight now—so he doesn't have to get up for more.

  
Ryan looks between the human husks and the brand new television mounted above the fireplace. It's big, really big, so big he can feel the characters on screen rushing toward him with.. what?

  
“Out of all the things to watch, you pick a hospital drama?” The hand holding the remote tightens, but Geoff doesn't look his way until the show goes to commercial. He blinks for the first time in hours, or at least that's what it looks like to Ryan.

  
“First of all, _Today’s Blood Test_ is _not_ a hospital drama. It's a very serious series about the real comings and goings of an ER. Second of all–”

  
“Shut up its back on!” Ryan never learns about the second thing.

  
Geoff goes silent again, and nudges Gavin who pinches Michael who signals Jack who tosses their boss another beer. Lindsay emerges from the blanket cave after two more episodes, and returns from the kitchen with a refill of snacks. At some point, Gavin and Michael slip to the floor, and Ryan fills their empty spot. No one talks much, and when the moon is high, almost everyone is asleep.

  
Geoff smiles.

  
Best idea he's ever had.

 

  
-*-

 

  
On New Year’s Eve, eleven o'clock on the dot, everyone piles into the living room and passes out gifts. Gavin is only a little pouty, since he wanted the secret Santa thing to be a big spectacle. It's not. There's eggnog and smooth jazz and cake. No one bothered to shower today and food stains adorn more than one set of clothes.

  
“How are we doing this?”

  
“Youngest to oldest, I guess.”

  
“No way! Ray’s not going first, _again_. Let's do oldest to youngest!”

  
No one is all that pressed about it, so that's the order they go in. Gavin presents Geoff with a hideous neon orange bag, eyes twinkling like the lights on their tree. When the man reaches inside and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a black mug, he starts bouncing. The words **“World’s Okayest Boss”** are printed in bold white letters across the front and back.

  
“Weeeellll??” His genuine enthusiasm is too precious. Geoff feels his bitterness reduce by the tiniest amount.

  
“I love it, Gavver.” And he does, truly.

  
Next up is Jack, who receives a big hug from Lindsay before she presents his gift. It's wrapped hastily in tissue paper, but Jack doesn't mind. The presentation doesn't matter when the gift is so perfect.

  
Soft brown leather with gold trimming. He smiles at the big photo album that now sits in his lap. The pages are empty, safe for a few in the middle. Pictures from their vacation that Lindsay got printed fairly recently. He has a box full of photos back home that now have a new place to live. He tells her so, and the joy and relief in her eyes makes him hug her again.

  
“It's beautiful, honey. Thank you.”

  
Michael makes a show of pushing the biggest box over to Ryan. He's got a satisfied smirk on his face, and sticks his tongue out at Gavin when Ryan makes an intrigued noise after opening it up. Let the record show: if you can construct a sticky bomb from scratch, you can wrap a gift.

  
“Flare guns?”

  
“And fireworks.”

  
“Huh. Cool.”

  
Rolling his eyes, Ray grabs his brother by the back of his shirt and pulls him to the ground, dropping a flat, rectangular box on his chest. He doesn't look directly at him as Michael unwraps it, but his twitchy fingers convey his nervousness. He doesn't need to see it again, he knows what it is.

  
Michael’s old jacket had fallen apart after years of tearing and fires and spilled chemicals. This one was black, not soft brown. And while it lacked a roaring lion, it made up for it with patches. On the right shoulder was the crew logo, perfectly centered, and on the arm below was the number eleven. The left shoulder bears a lion face, simple and prideful, and below that is a big letter L. For Lads of course.

  
Michael stares at Ray in awe.

  
“So I might've gotten your gift before coming here. But I got the box at the store so it still counts.” Unlike Michael himself who totally cheated. There wasn't an ammunition anywhere near this place, he totally ordered in Ryan’s gift. But Ray’s no snitch, so he doesn't call him out on it. At least not right now.

  
Gavin makes grabby hands when he sees that his gift is from Jack. He stretches his body without coming out of his cross-legged position on the floor, and it sounds like every bone in his spine cracks as he finally makes contact with the box. Everyone over twenty-five winces, but if anything Gavin turns to goo as he moves to lay on his stomach.

  
“Wicked!” Gavin holds up his new camera, grinning at the monogrammed bag half hidden under tissue paper. “This is awesome, Jack!”

  
“I figured if Burnie keeps sending you around the world, you might as well send us something better than a postcard.” Jack does his best to hide his bitterness. He didn't like that his old ‘friend’ was snatching up his kids left and right. From the smirk Gavin sends his way, he doesn't do a very good job.

  
Ryan eyes Lindsay warily, like one would a stray animal. She stares back, eyes wide like an owl’s and lips upturned in a slowly widening grin. He mock shudders and slides a box across the carpet with his foot. She pounces, tossing aside the lid and tissue paper until she reaches the warm, fuzzy center.

  
“Oh my god!!” Gavin ducks just in time to avoid flailing limbs. Lindsay wastes no time in donning her gift, hopping around once it's zipped all the way up. The cat onesie is a cute black and white, and the tail wiggles when she dances. Ryan fails to stifle his laughter, and accepts the crushing hug bestowed upon him. If he murmurs well wishes against the cat face hood, no one has to know but them.

  
“C’mere, Rayray.” Geoff opens up his arms, and his gunslinger falls into him just like always. Time means nothing when they're like this. Distance is a rumor, longing a foreign concept. It's the first time all over again, like they haven't left the couch.

  
“Is this my gift?” Ray asks his shoulder. Geoff ruffles his hair, squeezes him tight.

  
“Nah. Got something a little better.”

  
It's the smallest gift. Of course it is. A tiny box that fits into Ray’s palm. When he shakes it, something moves, slides around inside as if the already tiny box is too big to fit it. Ray pouts, turns accusing eyes up to his guardian.

  
“Really? What is it, a thimble? A marble? Gavin’s dick?”

  
“Hey!”

  
Geoff chuckles, and he sounds so fond. Fond of the boy in his arms, of the one his boy insulted, of everyone in the room. He's so content in this very moment, couldn't think of a better place to be.

  
“Why don't you open it instead of criticizing.”

  
Ray does.

  
The first thing he notices is the keychain; a pink bunny face the size of a fifty cent piece, the most cartoonish thing he's ever seen. Then Ray’s eyes are drawn to the actual key attached to the thing. It's new and shiny and useless. Ray doesn't drive, a fact Geoff knows very well. Maybe it's to a safe? Or a padlocked mini fridge filled with Capri Sun. He'd rather like that.

  
“Since we stayed past the originally scheduled time,” Geoff says, shooting Ryan a look, “I had to go down and put more money on the rent. And it was after I bought the television, so I figured I might as well go big, you know?”

  
Ray doesn't, not really. He was never all that great at understanding Geoff’s metaphors. His guardian sees the confusion on his face and hugs him closer, his voice dipping into that gentle tone he uses for telling really good bedtime stories.

  
“I decided to buy the lodge. And now? I'm giving it to you. This place is one hundred percent yours as of right now.”

  
Oh.

  
_Oh._

  
Ray cries.

  
He doesn't plan on it, that much is obvious. He takes the key out of the box, thumbs over the slightly raised smile and eyes of the bunny, and gets hot tears all over Geoff’s shirt. He's not the only one who bawls, he finds out later. Everyone is a bit misty eyed, overwhelmed with the realization that this magical place now belongs to them forever. It's too grand to keep for himself, Ray knows. He’ll get duplicate keys made, buy custom keychains for everyone. Install the best security system money can buy.

  
But for now he cries.

 

  
-*-

 

  
At ten minutes to midnight they all dry their faces, bundle up, and head outside. The evening is cold, the chill threatening to slip between the gaps in their clothes and turn their nerves to ice. Lindsay wears her onesie underneath her puffy coat, and the lads—still Lads after all this time—flick the ears as they all trudge up the hill.

  
It starts to snow again, tiny crystals that land on red noses and catch in eyelashes. High above them the stars light the way, blinking and twinkling like the lights on their tree inside. Even the lake, which looms ominously at the bottom of the cliff they stand on, is less menacing than before. Just a spark of dark blue on the world map, no longer intimidating. Not now with so many quick hands ready to pull someone back to safety.

  
Gavin gets the first shot.

  
Ryan, in true Ryan fashion, was a little too eager to put off using his present. He had enough flare guns to last him at least four missions, maybe five if he could control himself. But he was feeling generous, and as he passed the golden flare gun to Gavin, the blinding smile he got in return was more than enough to convince him that this was worth it.

  
His boy aims high, screeches when Michael gets under him and lifts him onto his shoulders, then he points straight at the moon and fires one off. A spark of gold sails over the lake, pretty smoke trailing after it. Things quickly turn to chaos. Everyone grabs a different colored gun and shoots bright flares into the night. The lads and Lindsay chase each other around, aiming at feet, tripping into snowbanks and rolling down small hills.

  
Geoff’s alarm goes off, and they all gather around as the clock ticks down to midnight.

  
_“Ten! Nine!”_

  
Everyone stands together, side by side, staring expectantly up at the sky as Ryan lights the fuse on the biggest firework.

_  
“Eight! Seven!”_

  
Geoff feels a cool hand slip into his own, and turns his head to find brown eyes gazing up at him. Ray grins, and his heart swells.

_  
“Six! Five!”_

  
Gavin links one arm through his younger brother’s, and the other with Ryan. He pulls his guardian close, beams when he feels the familiar sensation of a kiss being laid onto his hair.

_  
“Four! Three!”_

  
Lindsay wiggles her fingers until the awkward man at her side takes her hand. She holds up her accomplishment to Michael, who snorts at Ryan’s feigned discomfort. He's been holding hands with this girl since they were fifteen, and lacing their fingers together now is second nature.

_  
“Two!”_

  
Jack buries a hand in his gunslinger’s curls, trying to blink the wetness from his eyes. He feels s thin—strong now, so strong—arm curl around him, and the smile that lights up his face is brighter than any flare

 

_"One!"_

 

The firework rockets up into the sky right on que, and as it races across the stars, everyone holds their breath. The deafening boom that follows shakes the ground it seems. Sparks of color rain down above them; bright yellow and hot pink, pretty blue and red. They all burst out one after another, lighting up the amazed faces below.

  
They say that who you're with on New Years is who you'll spend the year with. The Fakes never paid much attention to such things, believing that myths and superstitions were for those who weren't brave enough to make their own destiny. But they are, have proved it once before, and they’ll do it again.

_  
“Happy New Year!”_

  
No matter what comes, bullets or fire, old ghosts or new demons, they'll find a way to be together.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In modern culture, snow globes often symbolize childhood, innocence, or so-called "happy days". 
> 
>  
> 
> And there we have it! I've had so much fun with this AU, and I love all these charas and I'm gonna miss them like crazy. But they're big kids now, and it's time to set them free. Thank you to everyone who's read the works in this series. I hope you liked this!


End file.
